Hello there, my cherished can-openers! How is every little thing in your world? Really, I’m only asking out of excessive politeness. You’re here to learn what’s new in my world. And this week, it’s all about my exceedingly generous heart.
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I’m already bored with calling my weekly blog Tuesday Sweets. I’m feeling a little sour today, actually. Annoyed. Fur in a knot. Deeply disappointed. Like someone else caught the mouse even though I did all of the chasing to tire it out.
…My people have never attempted to dress me up for special occasions. I think they know better. They wouldn’t dare force me to wear something spooky on Halloween, nor will they adorn me with a fuzzy sweater or boots this winter. (I don’t venture outside, after all.) But there is one item I wouldn’t shake off if placed on my perfect head: a cowboy hat.
…I understand that there was an election last night. I haven’t paid a lot of attention to the issues since all feline-related questions were overlooked in the campaign. So, the candidates can talk to the paw as far as I’m concerned.
…This week, I’ll answer a reader’s question. Yes, I get mail! And I get Facebook and Twitter comments, delivered to me by my second-favourite human: Mother.
…Not to worry, my beloved treat dispensers. This doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my blog posts. It just means that, so I’m told, this is my last entry before a move that I’m led to believe will possibly be the last one for some time. Maybe. It’s hoped!
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I love Father more than treats, my bacon toy or kibble. Perhaps you know the history, perhaps you don’t. Mother adopted me on her birthday a few years ago. She waited for me to get well because when we met, I was wearing an ugly cone and experiencing some gastric distress. When I finally came home with her and laid eyes on Father, I knew I’d found my protector and BFF for life. Mother says tiny hearts flew up like sparks between us. But I have to confess that I’ve developed a crush on another man.
…My usual sense of careless joy deteriorated into a sense of ennui the likes of which no feline before me has ever had to endure. But, dear readers, I am nothing if not resilient. Things seemed to improve and my disposition experienced a boost along with them.
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There is nothing left in this house except the things that belong to me. My scratching post that looks like a bent toilet brush, my basket of toys and brushes. Best of all, my fuzzy, puffy pouf and of course, my food. I must face the fact that we are camping now. The furniture upon which I leave my fur is now but a memory. These humans cannot be reasoned with. Take note of my facial expression. This air mattress has no give!
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My world is upside down, and not just because my belly is in the air in hopes of inspiring a tummy rub. The humans previously referred to as Father and Mother are nearly unrecognizable. They run past me in a blur of cardboard and crumpled paper, muttering to themselves and each other about not forgetting this or that. But the ultimate horror befell me this week. An occurrence so frightening that I dared not even consider its possibility. I will never get over it.
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*We don’t know for sure that hell is where the bat was from. But we wanted it the hell out of our bedroom!
…Does anyone really like moving? Moving companies, I suppose. It gets easier the more times you do it but I haven’t done it in a decade.
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In the deepest recesses of my heart, I’ve been longing for a change. Something big, radical, totally different. I wrestled with the idea and it pinned me and held me down. I tried to talk myself out of it but I found it was a better debater. My husband was on board from the start. But how would that change look? What would it take to make it happen? …
This letter arrived in the mail last week. It was a wonderful surprise. …
It took a long time to figure out what Spice and Sugar were to each other. Were they reluctant spouses? Roommates? It was about a year into their relationship before they cuddled up but they still have little spats. Spice still dominates her in little ways. He’ll shoo her away from the food bowl if he feels like it. Sugar will back up and sit patiently until he’s feeling more like sharing. We’ve determined they’re brother and sister. …
Today is Miss Sugar’s 11th birthday. She is the junior-senior of our senior cat duo, adopted from the London Humane Society when she was nine. The first thing we did was change her name from Kitty. Talk about unimaginative! …
Our number one cat, our senior feline, the Head of Security for our household and top mouser Spice turns 16 today. …
